Title: Goodnight, My Light

Pairing: Loki x Heimdall

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Dracula was written by Bram Stoker and Malora was created by Kinoshita. I claim no rights. :D

Author's note: Can it be…a Dracula themed Loki x Heimu story? Damn straight it is. So, I'll be updating ACM's chapters and adding parodies like this one to spice up the content. So, please enjoy the first of many literary one-shots!

Jonathan: Loki

Dracula: Heimdall

Mina: Angerboda

Brides of Dracula: Urd, Verdandi and Skuld

-START-

The headline of the newspaper read in bolded text, Three Sisters Missing! The Hunt Reaches A Climax, June 13th, 1897.

Three women from the nearby Buzău Pass have been missing from their home since March 27th, 1897. The girls, all in their early-twenties, vanished into the forest outside Valghita, Transylvania three months ago. Many townspeople saw them leave the city, but no one reported speaking to them on the evening of the disappearance.

"It's very bizarre," a woman reported. "I've never seen them act so strangely. It's simply like they walked out of their house and vanished! I'm very frightened for myself and my children…I'm afraid to let them go anywhere near that forest!"

Search parties that hunted the wooded area for evidence of the missing sisters reported seeing a blue flame between the trees, fading slowly as they approached it. Other witnesses reported hearing hooves and the sound of a coach on a gravel road, which is not known to exist in that area. It is still unclear if any of these strange happenings can be linked to the girls' disappearance.

Every building in the vicinity of the town has been searched diligently, excluding a castle even further within the woods, whose inhabitant is still unknown to the public.

"He never comes out of that castle," a male traveler reported. "I've passed by the manor numerous times and have probably only seen him once or twice. He's a strange fellow, and I wouldn't be surprised if he was holding them hostage himself!"

Norwegian detective Loki Laufiyarson is set to finally reopen the case and investigate the disappearance later tonight after a witness came forth and reported another sighting of a blue flame near the Olt River.

Despite the break in the case, there is still no trace of the three sisters to this day.

XOXOXOXO

Loki entered the carriage hesitantly, mentally preparing for the case ahead. He was becoming increasing agitated with approaching darkness and howling of ferocious sounding wolves in the distance. Granted, he wasn't scared by either, but the setting sun created an ambiance that could have probably made him fear anything.

The cunning detective was on his way to a castle close to the Romanian town of Valghita to investigate the disappearance of three women and claims of mysterious activity in the area. The count of this castle also desired a deal concerning a transaction of real estate, but this wasn't Loki's department, so he let it pass.

The people in the neighboring tows already told me that no one is aware of who lives in the castle, Loki thought to himself as the carriage bumped along the path. But how is that possible? Wouldn't someone have met him at least once before? Had one of his interviewee's had the gall to lie to him?

During the long trip up the gravel roads and through cold, unrelenting mists, the usually tolerant Loki was growing exhausted of the rude demeanor of the coachman. The driver hadn't said a word to him the entire time.

Sticking his head of blonde hair out the window, he slapped a gloved palm against the door in anger.

"Excuse me! Where in the world are we? I told you earlier to tell me if we were getting close to this castle, and you haven't muttered a sound!" he shouted. The man didn't even bother to turn around to acknowledge him. The driver merely stared ahead bleakly, the only indication that he was even alive evident by the occasional twitch of the reigns. Even the horses, black as charcoal, were unusually silent. They had been traveling for hours, so he at least expected a whinny or neigh from their mouths, but nothing. They were as soundless as ghosts.

Loki huffed in irritation and hit the carriage harder. "Hey! Can you at least give me some indication of where we are?"
The trickster was annoyed with the thickness of the night air. It was dark and musty, nothing like the fresh air of the stereotypical outdoors. There were only a few candles on either side of the cart to light their way down the roads, each emanating a small halo of light.

"Soon, detective…" an elderly voice crackled. As the coachman turned, Laufiyarson could see a thick, gray moustache and wrinkled eyes. He lifted a thin finger to his lips and shushed him. "Soon."

He growled. "I don't appreciate being belittled, if that's what you're trying to do," Loki said bluntly, his baby-blue eyes turning an electric, icy hue. "Once we're close to the castle, just let me out. I'll go alone!"

He nestled back in the carriage and crossed his arms, his wool coat starting to become ineffective against the approaching cold. Not to mention the fact that he was also starving. He had no idea how long he'd been on the road traveling, but it had probably been close to 48 hours since he'd had his last meal.

Still, he couldn't help but be a little excited. The castle was apparently dangerous, considering the vast amount of disappearances and strange activity. Some even reported seeing blue flames in the forest nearby. That was reason enough for the mischievous deity to be fascinated. He missed his life back home, no doubt, but even an ambiguously located haunted house was better than being stranded with a senile coachman in the cold woods.

Suddenly, the glossy, black cart jerked to a stop and the blonde man fell to the floor. As he lay crumpled against the bench he saw the elderly coachman jump down from his seat and slowly walk towards the woods. What the hell is he doing, Loki thought to himself he watched the coachman jump down from the coach.

"What…what's going on? Get back here!" he ordered sternly. "I said I was going to leave, not you!"
The elderly man's gangly form slowly teetered into the forest, not even looking back at his abandoned cart or horses. Apparently the threats were ineffective. "Come back! I'll press charges against you!" he yelled, the obscenities that would have normally followed interrupted by strident howling. For the first time, the horses actually indicated life by shuffling their muddied hooves in fright. The detective turned to see that ravenous wolves had found their way to the carriage. Each one was growling menacingly, fangs barred and glinting in the light from the candles. Loki backed himself up against the cart, hands groping the reigns desperately in an attempt to control the panicking horses. "H-Hey…don't do this," he warned the beasts. "I actually like wolves a lot. Don't go and spoil it…"

The dogs bent down on their front legs in preparation to lunge at him. Their eyes were bright yellow, glazed over with a thin veil animalistic rage. With a final growl, the beasts leapt into the air and Loki sank to the ground, arms covering his face.

He thought he caught a glimpse of a blue flame in the distance as he went down. It flickered softly between two shaded trees, and then vanished.

When seconds passed without a searing pain, the Fire God opened his eyes shakily. The elderly coachman was bowing before him. All the wolves had mysteriously evacuated. It was like the animals had vanished into thin air. "Ah…what…?" Loki muttered, fingers dancing upon the edge of his lips in thought. "What…was that?"

"My apologies, sir. I had some business to attend to for a brief moment. Please, we're coming up on the Count's castle. We'll be there in a few minutes," the elderly man remarked with a click of his silver pocket watch, glancing over the time briefly. He stuffed the device back into his pocket and turned to his carriage. He then mounted his seat atop the cart as if nothing had ever happened.

Loki was now frightened. Who or what was this man? The sleepy grandfather figure before him had apparently just made these vicious wolves disappear like some kind of magician. Not to mention that flame. But it wasn't just any flame; it was the blue flame that villagers had reported seeing around the castle. He obeyed the man's request and settled back in the carriage. Seconds later, a whip cracked, and the horses began to gallop again. The cart bumped along the road and the cold wind flooded into the wagon's windows. Either the chill of the night was dramatically increasing or the coachman was driving faster.

Now the element of danger had begun to sink in. He swallowed the lump in his throat and stayed composed. There was still a lack of evidence that the Count was involved with the vanishing women, which is why he was sent to investigate. Loki hoped he was a decently nice man, despite first impressions. He was in no mood to deal with anything more blood-thirsty than those mangled wolves from before.

Little did he know that they'd be the least of his worries.

XOXOXOXO

After a quick catnap, a harsh bump in the road sent the trickster's head colliding roughly with the roof. After a long stream of curses, he finally maneuvered his dizzy head out the window and squinted through the inky blackness. He quickly glimpsed at the pocket watch attached to his coat pocket. It was early in the morning, around 2:03 a.m.

"Are we almost there?" he asked over the sound of pounding hooves.

"Sssshhhh…." The elderly man ushered, his bony finger pressed against his white lips. Loki's eyes narrowed in annoyance at the persistent and creepy silence the coachman insisted upon. The horses rounded a sharp curve and began to travel uphill. The moonlight began to illuminate the faint silhouette of towers stretching upwards into the sky.

The sky was so smoky and black that the god actually rubbed his eyes and his temple to ease his straining eyes. He thought that he had to be imagining the size of the castle….it was the tallest building he'd ever seen. Nobody he'd ever met owned a place of such grandeur.

"I'm impressed so far…"

Loki licked his lips with delight.

When he heard the metallic rattling of gates in the distance, the Fire God knew they'd reached his destination. Loki readied his luggage and sighed deeply. He hated to impose if his host happened to be asleep, but he was damned if he'd sleep outside on a dirty canopy of leaves.

The coach finally drew to a stop and the doors opened. The elderly man dismounted and opened the door, allowing the detective to remove himself from the wagon. Loki yawned and dusted off his clothes before stepping into the frosty night air. As he stared up at the stateliness of the palace, the weather was a subject quickly forgotten. All evidence of bitterness was gone.

The sheer size of the chateau was remarkable, and the way the gray stone glittered in the moonlight was nothing short of beautiful.

"T-Thanks. I'm sorry I was so rude to you…" Loki said politely, intending to apologize for his rash behavior. When he turned back to toss his driver a smile, he was already gone. This puzzled Loki greatly. He even took a few awkward steps down the cobblestone driveway to try and spy the carriage. "H-Hey, old man! Are you there?"

An owl responded faintly, but no human.

A chuckle from the inner corridor startled the detective. "Pardon me," a suave voice chimed shortly after. Loki swiveled around to see a figure standing before the front door. He was a tall, handsome man in a dashing suit and long, wool cape to protect him from the chilliness of the mountains. He carried a lantern with him to guide his slender figure through the darkness. As the fire danced across his hand, Loki could see his skin was a pasty white color, as if it had never been kissed by the sun.

His face was also quite distracting. The flames barely illuminated it, but in contrast to his snow-colored skin, he had eyes as red as blood. A hood covered the man's hair, but the strands that danced along his cheekbones were a brilliant shade of purple. "My driver can be quite odd at times. Don't feel uncomfortable."

Odd? That was it? That was all he had to say about the man? Already there were red flags popping up left and right. Any decent person would have left that second, but as detectives usually were, Loki was anything but.

He doesn't sound very threatening, Loki thought, still taking in the man's appearance. While his voice was masculine and comforting, there were other oddities about his exterior that caught Loki off guard other than his paleness. For example, when he smirked coldly at his arrival, his canines were abnormally sharp, like fangs. His fingernails also appeared to have an almost claw-like appearance and, as he pulled off his hood, the trickster saw his ears were also pointed.

"I'm the master of this castle," the red-eyed man said with a bow. "I understand that you've come to investigate the myths of disappearing women from this area. If I can be of any assistance, please let me know at once," he said graciously. The Count went forward and seized the trickster's luggage with his extra hand, as if he was in a hurry to get inside. "Please, come. You must be exhausted."

"You're the Count?" Loki interrogated suddenly, eyebrow rising into a blond crescent. He wasn't exactly sure what he'd been expecting, but this certainly wasn't what was currently standing before him. He expected to see some overweight, Hungarian warlord or maybe an elderly grandfather like the coachman. Loki knew for a fact he had not been expecting such a handsome man. "Oh, pardon me…I didn't mean that."

"I understand…I don't exactly look like a Count, do I?" he asked with an understanding air, as if he'd dealt with this stereotype with countless other individuals. "Please, come this way. I've prepared you some food. We can talk about the case at dinner, but when dawn comes, I'm afraid I must tend to other business."

Loki hurried after him, for he walked briskly, as if he didn't want to be seen outside with the detective. The purple-haired man strutted down the halls, leading him to a dining room table that was set with glittering silverware and an ample amount of delicacies. "I trust you haven't eaten, please," he urged, motioning towards a chair. "I'll serve you whatever you desire."

Loki was skeptical of his kindness, especially towards a stranger he hardly knew, but accepted the offer gratefully. The detective was starving and, as the Count would soon discover, he could devour as much food as an army if that's what he needed to silence his belly. He took a piece of bread and adorned it was a thick layer of margarine. The Count sat at the opposite end of the table, fascinated with his newest visitor.

"So, what is your name? If you don't mind me asking…there must be something I can call you besides your rank," the Fire God asked with a full mouth, causing the red-eyed man to cringe.

"…My name is Heimdall. I have no restrictions upon the use of my name, however, there are a few other rules I want to make very clear before you begin your temporary stay here."

Loki noticed the significant amount of stress he'd places on the work 'temporary' and couldn't help himself from choking a little on the water he'd just sucked down his throat. "Alright, Heimdall. Elaborate," he said with noticeable bite. An irritated groan escaped Heimdall's lips. The trickster god had the gall not only to stuff himself with food, but also to press him like he was a criminal on trial. The polite façade he'd tried to put on for his guest was quickly wearing thin. Even worse, the first rays of dawn were no doubt approaching.

"I'll be blunt. Do not venture outside your room without my knowledge," he warned harshly with a sharp glint, crimson eyes prickly as daggers. Loki flinched at the rule and was tempted to openly object to the ridiculous request, but before he could get a sentence out of his mouth, Heimdall continued. "Second, don't ever carry any reflective surface with you around this castle. There are no mirrors here, so if you have one, keep it in your room. Third, you may not leave the castle until I agree to let you go."

The blonde man felt insulted. These are restrictions one might give to a child or convicted criminal, not a prestigious detective like himself.

"Heimdall, if I may, I'm not your prisoner. How am I supposed to investigate this case when you are treating me like a convict?"

Loki smirked at Heimdall accusingly. His fingers danced cutely across the tabletop. Loki's index finger located the rim of the chalice and slid along the top to create a beautiful ring, the song radiating throughout the dining room. "I'm sorry, but your actions make you seem extremely guilty," he chimed, his accusations obviously striking a nerve. The Count ground his fangs together and took a long swag of wine. Loki continued callously, "I don't know why you even tried to be nice to me if you knew why I was here. When you told me to not feel uncomfortable at the gate, I had a feeling you had some connection." Loki leaned over the table and elevated himself so that he was above the watchman. Staring down upon his pray was a strategy he was more than excited to try out on the pompous Count. "Are you? Guilty, I mean."

Heimdall's glaring eyes begged the question of what connection he was talking about. The trickster was also tempted to bring up the topic concerning the blue flames outside the castle walls, but held back. Why show your opponent your hand when the game has just begun?

"Guilty, no…follow my rules and you're stay will be lengthy enough for you to see the error of your logic, detective."

Then Loki realized something. The only way he could solve this case and gather evidence was if he kept a close eye on the Heimdall. In other words, the outcome of the case weighed on his time inside the castle. The only way he could stay inside the building was if he obeyed the ludicrous rules Heimdall had mercilessly imposed on him. It was a disgusting paradox.

The rules greatly hindered the trickster's ability to gather evidence to solve said case. Heimdall wasn't an idiot, much to Loki's dismay. He'd found an actual opponent to match his advanced mind.

"You said you had business at dawn? Well, then I'll take my leave now. I trust there is a room ready for me?" he asked as he lifted a brow and sneered, hoping that his unrelenting arrogance would lead the watchman into a peaceful surrender. It was evident, however, by the sinister way that Heimdall gesticulated down the hall and hissed in agreement that the battle would be long and tedious.

-END-

I'm part Hungarian and part French / Dutch (mostly Hungarian), so when I tell people this, they always ask me the same question.

"Wait, you're Hungarian? OMG, are you a vampire!"

I guess the secret's out. XD;

Yeah, totally, I'm a vampire. That's why I love the sun and have no problem going near crosses or touching silver.

R&R and I won't suck your blood and sparkle like a disco ball!